STAR-CROSSED
by Z.R FlumeCloud
Summary: The mysterious life and times of Regulus Acturus Black; following him through school to life as a troubled young man. What drove him to try to kill the wizard he idolised for so long? Or was it WHO...?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! Just a little heads up: this chapter and a small part of the next are dedicated to 'setting the scene' as it were, and are therefore in a factual, biographical style. Just skip right ahead if this bores you! Just remember; reviews are highly coveted! **

The small boy with the jet, black hair stepped off the train in a flurry of exited students, owls and trunks all hauling their way out of the station. For a moment the boy was obscured by a rogue puff of steam from the billowing engines, but as it cleared the features of his waif-like silhouette came slowly into focus. He was small and wiry, dark haired, heavily browed, with a haughty, slightly apprehensive expression as he surveyed the commotion before him.

"Firs' years this way!" bellowed a massive figure from the station's gate, "firs' years this way please!" Slowly the boy made his way across the platform, taking up the rear of the most recent student influx into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

_Little is recorded about Regulus' first year at Hogwarts, and apart from the fact that he followed his ancestors into Slytherin house; nothing historically noteworthy seems to have pursued the enigmatic figure of Regulus Black, who, it can be exclusively revealed, died at the bequest of Lord Voldemort during his second rising in 1992. His brother Sirius however did not share the same anonymity. After being arrested in 1980 for the murder of fifteen people and suspected Deatheater affiliations, Sirius Black enjoyed massive media attention. His extraordinary escape from Azkaban prison added to the media hype, however this was swiftly followed by his subsequent disappearance until his untimely death was announced in 1996, after which he was cleared of all charges._

"_Overshadowed and average" is how Horris Slughorn -Head of Slytherin house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- candidly describes his ex-pupil, Regulus. "As potions master and head of Slytherin, I was, of course, fully updated on the goings on of my house members," says Horris smugly, who sits comfortably surrounded by pictures of outstanding protégés. "But Regulus Black was a name only spoken about in connection with his brother, Sirius, who was, of course, far more talented and popular."_

_Indeed nearly all the Witches and Wizards questioned about this elusive man have said the same. As Horris concludes later in the interview: "It was Sirius who was the interesting one, why would you notice Regulus?"_

_Why indeed? But in fact, the revelations made about this man have been astonishing. After The Battle of Hogwarts in 1998, synonymous with Lord Voldemort's demise, curiosity peaked amongst the Wizarding community on how Harry Potter, then a mere boy of 17 could have defeated The Most Powerful Wizard of All Time. Harry's recent publication of his autobiography, has, it seemed, neglected to mention a most important character. In his interview Mr. Potter stated in confidence that the omission had been a deliberate decision from the publishers (Whizz Hard Books), who thought that it would be prudent to leave that particular piece of crucial historical information a secret, owing to the fact that they believed it historically irrelevant._

"_In some ways," says Harry, leaning heavily on his kitchen table; "Regulus Black's death was just as vital to the anti-Voldemort movement as his brother's."_

_It can now be revealed that this most average of students was directly linked to Harry's discoveries of Voldemort's Horcruxes._

"_In fact," says Hermione Granger, accomplice to Potter on his infamous quest, "he was the first person who discovered the existence of Horcruxes at all."_

_It seems that Regulus, after joining The Dark Lord as a Deatheater in 1989, discovered the existence of Horcruxes from his house elf whom had been ordered to aid Lord Voldemort in the protection of his split soul. The elf barely returned from the morbid expedition with his life, as it was only on Regulus' express order that the elf "return home" when the task had been completed, that the creature had survived at all. Thus, unwittingly Voldemort's darkest secret was exposed. Regulus, shocked and disturbed upon hearing what his elf had been forced to do, went into seclusion, swearing the elf to absolute secrecy. _

"_I think that was when he came to the conclusion that he had to die for the cause. He'd gotten in too deep and been questioning Voldemort's motives for a while" says Harry pensively._

"_Yeah" agrees Mr. Ronald Weasley, another close friend of Harry's, who helped destroy Voldemort alongside him; "he was tired of playing the same old game of Purebloods rule and Mudbloods drool and wanted out. He realised he had been mislead, but felt trapped by his parent's expectations and family beliefs. He also, I think, decided that his must be a solitary mission, as his family was safer sticking to the old prejudice line."_

_So Regulus and his elf took the first step on the dark road to Voldermort's downfall, journeying to a lonely Cliffside on a dark windy night at the end of September, to chip away at the magical monstrosities that tied the Dark Lord to the earth. _

_In the cliff there lay a cave and beyond that a subterranean cavern which housed a macabre lake, bloated with the victims of Lord Voldermort's wrath. Crossing the lake on a small boat, the slim seeker and the frightened elf clambered onto a small island in the center of the mass of water._

"_There was a basin, and in it a poison that made the drinker hallucinate, loose strength and suffer from an unquenchable burning thirst," relates Harry, looking haunted._

_Regulus drank the potion within, gave the Horcrux to his elf and bade him to return home without him, vowing the being, yet again, to secrecy. There, in the damp cage where so many years before Tom Riddle had begun his descent into evil, Regulus joined the army of those beneath the waters of change. _

_The extraordinary actions, of this seemingly unremarkable individual create many questions for modern magical historians:_

_Why did he choose to die rather than ordering his elf to return them both home?_

_What changed his mind about the Dark Lord?_

_And indeed, who really was Regulus Arcturus Black?_


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO:

Three years had passed since Regulus's induction into Hogwarts. He was a slight but tall youth who went about the castle as normal. Not talented, but moderately adept in all educational activities. Only on the Quiddich pitch did Regulus Black really show any gifts, beating much older players for the title of Slytherin seeker by his second year. He was suddenly the pride of his house and his acceptance onto the team was followed by win after spectacular win. For a few weeks of a particularly singular March, people recognised him as he passed through the castle. Instead of the odd comment on the "young Black" he became known universally as: "the Black seeker."

"_Yes, he was quite the celebrity for a while, especially in his own house," recounts Molly Weasley. "People heard about Regulus instead of Sirius...but Quiddich will do that to people, you know. A couple of weeks after his new found fame, Slytherin were beaten by Gryffindor; not enough points to win the cup but James Potter gave poor Regulus the flight of his life, and of course, in the end he got all the glory."_

_So Regulus returned to anonymity once again, keeping to his select few friends as he went about his school career, for all accounts a student much like any other. It was that year his life changed completely._

"Hey, Black!" Regulus turned towards the voice warily; ready to slink away at the hint of a snide comment. "Shame about the game last Sunday! Potter needs his head deflating. You where great, really should have won!" Regulus stood frowning at the girl who had spoken. She was in his year he recalled, tall with wavy brown hair that fell well below her knees and flashing bright green eyes. One of her hands was half raised in greeting and she was smiling nervously at him. He wracked his brain trying to find her name.

"You're Astrid...Astrid..."

"Greengrass"

Greengrass. Pureblood. The familiar name eased him a little as he stared haughtily at her. "Thank-you." He said stiffly, inclining his head. She laughed. He noticed that when she did this deep dimples appeared in her flaming cheeks.

"Almost as if we were friends!" She remarked; her eyes alight with humour and the slight tinge of awkwardness that often haunts teenage conversation.

Her gentle sarcasm was lost on him and he nodded solemnly. "Not quite" he replied, slowly turning away and continuing down the narrow corridor. He had only gone a few paces when she fell into step behind him.

"Your Sirius' brother right?" She said cheerfully, slinging her bag across her shoulders and following him down the corridor. "That must be fun. Apparently he's the number one school heartthrob, or so I hear, although it's pretty hard to distinguish the shrieks from actual words if you catch my drift. I suppose it's the allure of stellar breeding? I will never understand why some girls will be so shallow, although that James Potter has a lot going for him too apparently!"

Regulus turned, affronted that she should mention the Black name in such a flippant manner. Who was she, this strange, overly familiar girl who felt she could just start talking to him about his brother's supposed popularity? As if he cared anyway. She may be a pureblood but she was nothing compared to him. The Blacks were one of the few Wizarding families whose thoroughbred bloodline hadn't yet been tainted by non-magical lineage. He turned to her, a sneer slowly curling his mouth. "I don't know you," he said with venom, looking her up and down and raising an eyebrow pointedly. "How dare you make assumptions about my family, I know you're in Ravenclaw anyway and therefore hardly reliable. I'm afraid I'm not interested in misconstrued gossip."

She stared; astounded maybe that anyone could be so rude. "Well...I just thought...maybe..." she suddenly frowned, her eyebrows knitting so tightly together he thought it would be a miracle if they ever come apart again. "How dare I make assumptions?" she fumed "I was just trying to be friendly, and it really is not my problem that you think I'm presumptuous, try getting out of the right side of bed for once. I've seen you, slouching about, wearing a constant scowl. It's called being 'nice'. You always seem so quiet, and I know how it feels to be constantly sidelined, so I just thought... oh never mind." She muttered something that sounded rather like "ungrateful snob" and flounced off down the corridor, whipping him around the face with the ends of her hair with force of her exit.

He stared after her, shocked. No one had ever bothered to talk to him before, let alone attempted nicety. Even his friends hadn't commented on his dark mood. Too busy swapping obscure rumours about the Dark Lord. He blinked considering her words: "I know how it feels to be constantly sidelined..." He snorted contemptuously. He wasn't sidelined. His git of a brother was a disgrace to the name of Black, sometimes bordering on Blood traitor. Regulus scowled as he remembered looking over to the Gryffindor table one morning to find Sirius, his arm casually slung around Arthur Weasely's shoulders roaring with laughter at a joke from James Potter, his stupid friends guffawing in vapid unison. Fraternisation with Blood traitors was not to be tolerated. He had written to mother about it. Not that she could control Sirius but father might be able to knock some sense into him. He probably wouldn't bother, mused Regulus continuing his slow walk down the corridor, the encounter with Greengrass all but forgotten. Sirius had lost true Wizarding pride the moment he stepped on the Hogwarts express and joined forces with the muggle-loving traitor James Potter.

Regulus was jolted out of his reverie by Peeves, who shrieked with malicious glee at the sight of him and started throwing underwear with devastating accuracy. Regulus ran the rest of the length of the corridor, dashing through tapestry after tapestry in his effort to escape. By the time he had evaded Peeves he was breathing hard with a firm stitch in his side. He looked around, got his bearings, and then trod the lesser-known route to the kitchens lest Peeves should return with something more substantial to throw. Turning the corner into a heavily carpeted corridor he walked a way down it before glancing around and carefully tickling the painted underbelly of a pear, which sat snugly in a laden fruit bowl upon a canvas expertly rimmed with oak.

The pear let out a small bubble of mirth before the painting slowly swung forwards to reveal a warmly lit kitchen alive with house elves.

"Master Regulus, sir!" shrieked a small female elf, her eyes alight with joy as she noticed him cautiously stepping through the opening. Suddenly he was swamped by the creatures who all seemed to be beaming cheerfully or waving enthusiastically with dough coated fingers, their eyes bright with joy. "You did not tell us you were coming, sir!" accused one particularly exited elf. "We would have made trifle! We know master Regulus is very partial to trifle!"

Regulus smiled for the first time in what seemed like weeks. "You don't have to make trifle just for me Slinky, you know I only ever want to drink tea."

"Master may just be happy with tea!" shouted Dandy, a particularly fat elf who loved to bombard Regulus with as much food as he could carry whenever he chanced to visit the kitchens. "But master Regulus does us a great service in his visit and we should repay him accordingly." At her words two elves broke away from the throng surrounding Regulus and busied themselves with the preparations for cream and jam, expertly lighting a fire with a click of their bony fingers and pouring a mountain raspberries into a saucepan to stew for a while. A cup of tea was placed in his hand and he was escorted to his usual small stool by the roaring hearth.

"Master Regulus, sir, tell us of your holidays!" They all gathered round, their small eager faces up-turned to stare at him in awe, begging to hear his stories of which even the most mundane where apparently fascinating. So he sat there, pouring out his thoughts and feelings, being comforted and fed by the enthusiastic little elves, which at that moment seemed to be the only true friends he had in the world.

This was the only place he really could be himself; not making up for his brothers inadequacies at home nor frantically assessing everyone he met in case they where a Blood Traitor or Mudblood or disowned in some way or other. Here he was neither being cruelly teased by Cousin Bella or studiously ignoring the Prewitt's, who's disgraced father's name, had been blasted from the family tree by his furious mother last summer. Here in this steamy kitchen he could pour out his worries to the sympathetic ears of the house elves or share a laugh with a biscuit in hand and smile on his face without facing judgment or neglect.

The Greengrass girl had been right he thought, staring pensively at the green hangings surrounding his four-poster as he changed for bed, he was pathetic and sidelined in comparison to his brother, but at least he had an escape.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early and Regulus noted with gratitude that one of the elves had laid his freshly laundered cotton shirt, jet-black robes and breeches at the end of his bed, well within reach of an athletic toe. He dressed quickly, careful that the snores that emanated from the beds surrounding him were not disturbed. He tiptoed down to breakfast, slipping quietly through the darkened corridors of the castle until he reached the great hall.

"Merlin's beard!" Shrieked professor Kettleburn in his reedy shout as he raced passed with a bucket of undulating larvae. "Bit of an ungodly hour to be down for breakfast Black! I only got up the feed the salamanders, and then it's back to bed for me!" He sped up as the larvae began to smoke ominously and skidded through the double doors of the Entrance hall, fanning them wildly with a sweaty hand.

Regulus shrugged, suppressed the urge to laugh and wandered into the Great Hall, which was mainly empty except for Professors Dumbledore and Dippet who were locked in conversation at the teacher's table. A couple of bleary-eyed students sat forlornly scattered about the room, bent over stacks of parchment. No one looked up as Regulus entered, too involved in their own occupations to care. He sat down quietly at the Slytherin table and helped himself to cereal, dedicating himself entirely to the preparation and consumption of his breakfast. In such an attitude, he was hardly aware of the soft thump that indicated a person taking the seat next to him until they tapped him on the shoulder.

"We meet again." Said Astrid Greengrass, raising an eloquent eyebrow as she watched the precise way in which he separated raisins from the milky mulch that was his cereal. "Hogsmeade trip today," she stated as if they where old friends discussing their weekend plans. "Are you going? You always look so pale. It would do you a world of good. Oh and there is no need to apologise for yesterday, I accept that people make mistakes! No need what-so-ever to beg for mercy." She smiled, obviously expecting him to laugh, which he did not. Instead he stared at her like she was some unearthly apparition, which he probably would have been less surprised at seeing, since there where ghosts all over the castle.

"I don't even know you!" He said leaning back an inch and getting ready to vacate the scene. "And even if I did, I never go to Hogsmeade."

"You don't need to tell me that boyo" she humphed, crossing her arms and frowning. "Your complexion speaks for itself." She wafted a lazy hand in his direction and made to stand up. "You don't know anyone and nobody knows you, this is your chance to change that." She grinned and ruffled his hair, making her way towards the doors, "twelve-o-clock at the Winged Boars? Great!" She shouted back as she marched from the Great Hall, and with a wave she was gone, the dangerous tendrils of her hair curling temporarily across the doorframe.

Regulus was left speechless at his table, his usually immaculate hair crumpled and disheveled. What on earth was she thinking? Had somebody slipped Essence of Insanity into her pumpkin juice? –Or- a quiet voice whispered in his head, a love potion perhaps? The thought made him blush in a not entirely unpleasant way. He slapped himself mentally, what was he thinking? This girl was an intrusive lout. How dare she treat a Prefect this way! Full of righteous indignation Regulus finished his breakfast, bustled out of the Great Hall, away from the steadily filling tables and made his way into the grounds where he sat by the lake looking pensively out across the dewy grounds as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky.

He watched a couple for a while as they made their way down to the lake, the girl had bright red hair and the boy messy black, his hands seemed to be constantly flying up to his head to ruffle the already messy mop atop his head, and he appeared caught in a constant ruddy flush as he blustered through the conversation. The girl was calm and seemed slightly wary, but as the boy continued his tirade she relaxed, even laughing at him now and then, waving her longs arms at him teasingly. Abruptly, Regulus was aware the he was not the only one watching the couple. A sallow lanky fifth year sat watching the pair with obvious pain. His hair fell in greasy curtains around his face and he glared at the two with such intensity that suddenly Regulus felt intrusive. Quick to leave the line of vision of the angry seventh year whom he now recognised as Severus Snape, Regulus threw his toast into the lake and left, hurrying down the water's edge towards the forest. As soon as he reached the shade of the trees, he followed its edge down towards the Quiddich pitch. It was still fairly early and the ground was wet with dew as he passed the old oaks. He could see professor Kettleburn, clad in stripy pyjamas and nightcap wrestling fruitlessly with a stubborn hippogriff as it strained to reach a cage of pixies that were all threateningly brandishing sticks. He continued parallel to the trees until he reached a worn path that lead to a large batholith, on top of which was a single tower that split into two half way up. He climbed the seemingly infinite stone steps until he reached a door at the base of the Owlery. He was just about to open the faded door when he heard muffled voices raised in anger from within.

"You believe it lies and rumour but I know it to be true! He is recruiting! The Dark Lo-"

"I know the stories! You need not bombard me with so-called fact about this _great, _dark wizard. He is probably no different to you and I. Why should we follow him? I want proof that he can carry this out, lead us to victory! Because we won't just be against hapless muggles, Dumbledore himself has shown-"

"Yes, yes I know who we face, I am not saying this will be easy, but his skill...they say he is more powerful than even Grindelwald in his prime!"

"That would be something to see." The second voice conceded, "but it is still all hearsay. I will need some hard evidence and incentive to join the Death Eaters before I commit myself fully to an unknown wizard."

"Yes, I understand we all will, but if we join as a group, people will be less likely to suspect us. We can work out meeting places and swap information and if -as I am certain- he proves worthy we could even recruit!"

"You go too far! _The Dark Lord _is an unknown entity and you are already speaking as if you have joined his followers!" There was silence from the owlery and then a gasp. "When did you do this? How could you not inform me of it first? Bella, I thought we were meant to be...or have I got that wrong as well?"

"Hush, Redolfus, you proved too skeptical to confide in immediately, I had to test whether you could hold your tongue. Can you? Or is this finished?"

A splutter came from inside door. "You would end what we have for an unknown wizard!? You don't even know if he…why do you even have to ask if I can hold my tongue? I would never betray you."

"I had to be sure," hissed Bella, "the utmost secrecy has to be kept in regard to this subject, do you understand?"

"You patronise me. Of course I understand."

"Wonderful. It's for the greater good, Redolfus. Come along."

Before Regulus could even take a step back the door flew open, Redolfus was looking over his shoulder but Bellatrix let out a cry of fury and paralysed Regulus with a flick of her wand, pinning him to the wall with a non-verbal spell.

"What did you hear you little sneak? WHAT? Tell me everything you heard. Now! Don't make me Cruciate it out of you!" She slapped him hard round the face making his left check burn.

Regulus tried to speak but his tongue seemed to be glued to the top of his mouth and his jaw was clamped shut by the spell. He stared imploringly at Redolfus who looked just as shocked as Regulus felt. Suddenly he felt the charm lift and he regained the power of speech. Coughing and spluttering he desperately tried to form a coherent sentence, "Nothi...Noth...Nothing. I heard nothing...just come...up...stairs."

Bella regarded him contemptuously as he continued to cough. "Weakling' she sneered, you had better be telling the truth or-"

"What does it matter if he heard? He's Pureblood and family, I am sure he would be proud to play a part in this as well. Come and you can tell me what more you have discovered, away from prying ears."

Redolfus swept down the steps and Bellatrix followed, "a word to anyone else, boy, and you'll wish you'd never been born" she called menacingly after her as the two descended the steps, flashing a feral smile his way.

Regulus shivered and drifted into the Owlery in a daze. What were these supposed whispers that so intrigued the Purebloods? Why was Cousin Bella so involved? And most importantly of all, who was this infamous Dark Lord?


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE:

The two centaurs stared through the trees at the approaching young man, watching him carefully as he slowly tramped through the long grass bordering the forest.

"The Little King has grown," remarked the larger of the two beasts, staring at Regulus intently. "His last years as an adolescent mark the beginning of battle and war. We should be ready my friend. "

"Hush. The stars are not certain, do not pronounce doom upon the human so quickly Firenze, his fates are still to be observed," replied the second, wearily pinching his nose and turning away from the boy. "If our readings are correct, then a horrible death awaits this child. We should not speak of it with him so close."

"He chooses his own path." Said Firenze icily, following his friend deeper into the trees with a hardening his expression.

"You should not take sides, dear one! This is a war of men, violent creatures that they are. We centaurs will have nothing to do with it!" Snapped the older of the two, swinging his tail in agitation at Firenze's remark.

"Peace, Elder, I only mean to remark upon the choices of the boy, Even though I do think that we-"

"I know your hypothesis, colt! And I do not want to hear them repeated. The others will not be so lenient on you if you divulge your ridiculous theories on them. I put up with a great deal from you, but this helping-the-humans-will-help-the-world thesis I will not tolerate. We are not horses who bend to the will of men."

"So I've have been told." Said Firenze in the lifeless voice he adopted when disagreeing with another.

"Well you would do well to remember it!" snarled the old centaur breaking into a swift trot. "None of our brethren will keep you in the herd if they hear such madness again, and it would grieve me to see you leave, so hold your tongue, dear fellow, and prevent yourself from speaking your mind, however much it angers you. Do you understand?"

A slight inclination of the head was his only reply.

Regulus walked on through the dewy grass, his mind buzzing. What had cousin Bella meant? Why was it so important that the information he had overheard remain secret? There had been whispers all along, near-silent mutterings in the common room when he had lain low in the armchairs, feigning sleep. But this seemed altogether more…definite. Certain. Obligatory. He knew he had to find out more. It was his duty as a Black heir.

He had reached the gates. The winged boars seemed to leer down at him from atop their mighty perches, mocking his ignorance.

"Hey!" someone called from behind him, "I didn't think you'd actually show! I mean, you didn't think I meant it about your complexion did you?"

Regulus sighed and turned around. Just his luck, he'd run into Little Miss Crazy from the Great Hall and now he'd be harried off to Hogsmeade to squeal over the new edition of Witch Weekly or whatever girls did when they weren't dealing with PMT.

"Erm, actually I was heading down to…the Quiddich Pitch," he said quickly, backing away. She stood there looking at him, her expression unreadable.

Her eyes where a deep green, almost emerald and seemed to suck him from the muddy ground on which he stood into a whirlpool of colour and butterflies. Her waist length brown hair flew from her back and blew out behind her, curling inwards and rippling, sending light cascading down each tendril like a living creature. Suddenly, inexplicably, he didn't feel like leaving at all. _In fact_, whispered a small, suppressed part of his brain, _I could follow this girl to the ends of the earth if her hair always blew like that._ Regulus coughed loudly and blushed. _Idiot! _He chided himself, _what on earth was he thinking? This girl was nobody!_ He sighed shakily and desperately tried to claw back his aloof demeanor. "I have better things to do with my time." He sniffed, "Hogsmeade is for children and anyway, haven't you got friends of your own to harass?"

A flash of hurt crossed her face momentarily, she frowned and then regained herself; "child? What does that make you, oh superior and most ancient one?" She snapped, drawing her cloak around herself and firmly crossing her arms. "Oh I suppose you as the amazingly popular Regulus Black have _millions_ of mates, practically too many to count, so many in fact that they feel the need to give you time out… at every possible opportunity! You don't need a real friend! You have an army of fakes!" she spat, her eyes sparkling a bit too much as she blinked rapidly.

Regulus was speechless, he had never been talked to like that before, he knew he should be angry but all he could think of was the momentary flash of hurt she had betrayed at his words and the moisture condensing above her lower eyelashes. "I…I'm…" he stuttered, "look, umm, Astrid. I suppose I could, in theory, fly later. Oh and, another thing I've just remembered is that I need to buy a…birthday present for my…aunt," he finished lamely. The muddy ground suddenly seemed fascinating, as he intently watched a beetle struggling over the slippy turf.

Astrid sighed. "No, no, it's fine," she huffed "I wouldn't want to pressure you going on a trip you clearly don't want to go on," she turned and made to stroll through the gates without him.

"It is my favorite aunt," he called, "and I did…promise." He awkwardly strode after her, inwardly kicking himself.

She pursed her lips and continued walking, but didn't speed up, which he took as assent that he was, at least, marginally welcome.

The walk to Hogsmeade was icy, the weather and the mood mirrored each other with unerring accuracy, and by the time they reached the wind swept village, Regulus couldn't feel his hands.

"So." Declared Astrid when they reached the village; "there's the post office, they run a special mail order service. You should find a good catalogue in there." She made to turn away but Regulus' shivers halted her. She pursed her lips in exasperation, grabbed his cloak by the hood and dragged him towards the Three Broomsticks.

Yet another awkward silence fell as they took their seats. Regulus was regretting his earlier moment of chivalry. He tried to claw back his usual unfriendly demeanor by sneering at anyone who wasn't a Slytheryn. He turned back to Astrid and eyed her robes, solemnly noting the blue raven embossed on her top pocket. He sniffed his distaste and turned away, raising a polite hand as a Lucius Malfoy passed. He sighed, control returning to him in small increments, and silently cursed his conscience.

Astrid had, by this time, gathered the drinks and returned to the table her cheeks rosy with the sudden temperature change, quietly singing the new Celastina Warbeck single: A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love.

"And now you've torn it right apart, I'll thank you to give back my heart!" She warbled as she slid into her chair and pushed the flagon of Butterbeer towards the hunched figure of Regulus. "So! This your first visit to Hogsmeade then?" she asked brightly, taking a gulp of the honey coloured liquid in front of her. Regulus nodded and continued to stare out of the window. "Great! We should go visit Honeydukes then, and Zonkos, oh and the Shrieking shack is always worth a visit, most haunted place in Britain you know. Drink up! Butterbeer is at it's nicest when warm, ever had it before?"

"No." replied Regulus eyeing the drink with distaste. "I don't enjoy alcohol at the best of times and if I simply have to divulge I go for a little watered down champagne at Christmas," he said pushing the drink away from him as if it was contaminating.

"Alcoholic? This wouldn't get a house elf drunk!" grinned Astrid, apparently unaware of Regulus' change of mood. "Not very adventurous are you?" She snickered as he stared at the drink dubiously.

"Actually, it can." said Regulus, remembering an unfortunate elf who'd recently had drunk himself into oblivion, and nearly fallen into the kitchen grate.

"Really?" hiccupped Astrid putting the tankard down, "I didn't know they were into those kind of things."

"They're not animals you know," grumbled Regulus, trying not to stare at the line of froth that framed her upper lip most invitingly. "Anyway, haven't we got things to do?"

Astrid jumped up and nodded, "oh of course!" she cried excitedly in the instantaneously passionate way Regulus was now rather getting used to. Once again she grabbed the hood of his robes and drew him after her into the cold morning.

The afternoon that followed seemed rather surreal to Regulus as he trudged around, following in the wake of the increasingly more boisterous Astrid -the overheard conversation all but erased from his mind- as for the first time he found himself enjoying the company of another person. It was different from the house elves, because she saw herself as an equal and would tease him endlessly. Poking fun at his stoic ways and laughing at almost everything. He also realised that she could hold even the most boring subject in conversation for hours, making even the must mundane topics fascinating.

Her good mood was infectious and as the days of their acquaintance stretched into weeks, he often found himself grinning at reminiscences of their recent outings and thoroughly anticipating their next excursion with almost indecent delight. He even began to miss her company when she was busy or they were in separate lessons. It took a few weeks, but then even Regulus couldn't deny that he could truthfully say that -for the first time in his life- he had a best friend.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR:

The firelight flickered off the faces eagerly gathered round it, beating back the darkness as it flickered in and out of existence, its purple glow extending only so far into the night.

Regulus huddled closer as an icy gust of wind swept round the forest clearing sending a shiver rippling through the crowd. Bellatrix was holding a newspaper clipping, staring fanatically down at the face exposed on the cover.

"So" she began tearing her gaze off the paper to stare at them all in turn. "Did you do as I asked? Did you bring information?" There was a sudden rustle of movement as everybody dug into pockets and bags eagerly trying to show how committed they were to the cause. Regulus glanced round as everybody threw magazine cuttings and newspaper articles to the ground, noting with curiosity that all of them were Slytherins. He shuffled nervously on the leaf-strewn floor as Bella transferred her cold look to him. "Aah," she sighed, smiling in a way that made him want to run back to the school. "Look Crouch, little Regulus has joined us at last, did I not tell you he would?" The boy sitting next to her turned and regarded Regulus thoughtfully; he was a thin youth, with hollowed cheeks and straw-coloured hair that seemed at odds with his dark gaze. He too smiled at Regulus but his eyes told a different story as they roamed Regulus' features.

"He will be a good asset to the Dark Lord," commented the youth, his brow furrowing so that, in the gloom, all that was left of his eyes were dark, glinting sockets. "But can he be trusted? Will he not confide in his traitorous brother?"

Bellatrix laughed cruelly. "He will not tell Sirius. They hardly live in the same household, and Regulus here has much clearer views than his Blood-traitor brother; he knows what true pride is, I have taught him well, do not fear. Come now, we have until midnight to complete the initiation." Crouch nodded but continued to stare at Regulus as Bellatrix began speaking.

"We here all have a common interest," she started "in that we all herald from families of pure blood, in other words we are _proper _wizards, we do not have contamination in our veins and therefore we reign supreme over all Mudbloods, squibs and most of all, muggles. These beasts have been allowed to rule our country, persecute us and drive us into hiding. They have been allowed to _breed _with our kind and dirty our supreme Wizarding families with their filthy blood, many of the most powerful Wizarding families have been driven to extinction by these disgusting magic-less beings, we could eradicate these creatures in a heartbeat, but we are prevented from doing so by our own people and laws! We are imprisoned and diminished if we voice or act upon our views and we are brainwashed into believing that they are our equals. Only one man can help us. One Wizard has arisen that publically speaks against these animals. He is said to possess unrivalled magical talent, beating that of even Dumbledore himself. With the leadership of this astounding Wizard I am assured that we will vanquish the misguided legislations of the current Ministry and put the muggles in their rightful place." She finished her speech breathing heavily, a zealous look in her eyes as she blinked around the clearing. Regulus was deep in contemplation. One man who could release the Wizards from hiding and give purebloods the true appreciation they deserved. He glanced down at the newspaper clippings spread out on the floor before him; the closest was an ancient one that dated some years back and was obviously from the Daily Prophet. It was entitled: THE RIDDLE and explained the new emergence of an ex Hogwarts student who was said to be gathering a small force of followers who had identified themselves as 'The Knights Of Walpurgis'. The column also added that he was wanted for theft, but the tone of the piece was casual and the journalist seemed to disregard him as yet another petty criminal. Underneath this was a small arbitrary for Caracticus Burke, whom it appeared had been accidentally killed by a dangerous item that was on sale in his shop. The next clipping dated a year ago was altogether more ominous; a muggle family had been killed and the suspect was a man naming himself Lord Voldemort. The perpetrator had apparently amassed a substantial band of political soldiers naming themselves the 'Deatheaters,' and with their aid was currently campaigning to have muggle-born representatives removed from Ministry service. The article concluded portentously that Barry Smith of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office was said to be missing, the two instances vaguely linked. The third clipping was the front page of last month's Daily Prophet; emblazoned on the front in big bold letters where the words: MINISTER DECLARES WAR ON DARK WIZARD AS CASUALTIES RISE. The article read:

_After a recent uprising by the newly fledged Dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, the Minister of Magic has publically declared war on him and his followers. "Aurors have been sent to tackle this blatant disregard for magical law." Stated the Minister on Friday night, "things cannot escalate further than this, there have already been numerous murders and therefore I have decided that we, as your faithful Ministry must take strong action against this powerfully deluded and highly dangerous Wizard." Many have asked if a war is necessary to tackle a single man, but sources close to the minister suggest that it is no longer a lone criminal but a highly organised group of people whose sole intention is to bring down, not only the Ministry, but the Statute of Secrecy that has kept our existence hidden for so long. "He's got a powerful argument," stated ex ministry employee Abraxas Malfoy, "we all want to be free. It is a basic human right." Unfortunately his recent actions are not those of a man campaigning solely for freedom... continued on page four._

Regulus gathered up the clippings one by one, feeling slightly awed. Was this not what his family had wanted for so long? It was his duty, he reminded himself, to uphold the family honour and respect their motto by joining this increasingly influential wizard as he campaigned for purity.

"So, Black," drawled a languid voice behind him, "what did you think of Bella's speech? Are you motivated? Will you do something? Do you even have the courage to?" Crouch laughed as Regulus jumped in surprise and not a modicum of fear. "Will you join, little boy?" he said, clearly annunciating every word as if speaking to a baby. He smiled down at Regulus, but instead of feeling reassured, Regulus felt coerced by the cold curl of his lips.

"Yes, I will" announced Regulus, staring into the dark eyes, silently resisting the urge to shift away as Crouch lent down and narrowed his eyes at him. Regulus could feel the boy's breath on his face, chilling him to the bone. The fanaticism was there, thought Regulus, but unlike Bellatrix whose ardent obsession blazed hot as flame, this was cold, calculating and completely unrelenting.

"Prove it," breathed, Crouch standing up and Regarding Regulus piteously. "The Dark Lord needs _dedicated _followers, the younger the better. Meet me at Hogsmeade station on the day we break up for Christmas. Have your things sent home on the train. I shall take you to him. And if, as you say, you are truly dedicated to joining him, you will come. If not...well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He smiled his horrible smirk again and walked off through the trees. Regulus stood there his mind a blur of confusion, this wizard has _killed_ people, said a small part of Regulus' brain that was averse to the whole idea. But, he reasoned, his family needed to be recognised, the Wizarding race required _purity _for growth. He was doing this, he concluded, for the greater good.

Astrid tramped happily through the snow that covered the courtyard, as they made their way towards Professor Kettleburn who was gingerly holding a salamander above a lit wand as three students feverishly tried to set a mound of damp, icy, wood alight. "Just think Reg! This time tomorrow we'll be happily sitting on the Hogwarts express, swapping chocolate frog cards, discussing our holiday plans and fully embracing the Christmas spirit!" Professor Kettleburn who had at that moment pointed his wand at the soggy bark and yelled "incendio" saved Regulus from explaining that he would not be accompanying her. The pile of leaves burst violently into flame, belching smoke and sizzling ominously as the water evaporated in seconds. The class hurled themselves to the ground but professor Kettleburn, being heavily endowed with a cane and a salamander was set alight by the tongue of flame that he had conjured. As members of the class descended upon the flailing teacher, Regulus found himself nose to nose with Astrid who was in a state of lively hysterics beneath him, clutching her stomach and shaking with silent mirth. Regulus smiled and turned towards the smoking teacher as he clambered to his feet.

"Never fear! Never fear" coughed Professor Kettleburn, his usually white eyebrows blackened beyond recognition "it's only a spot of fire...now where's my cane?" he picked up his remarkably untainted stick and continued as if nothing had happened. "Salamanders, as you can see, are fire loving creatures that can only reproduce within a temperature of about one hundred degrees." He pointed to the fire where the salamander was now basking on a glowing log happily. "Miss Greengrass, please return to your feet and stop laughing, my predicament is not amusing," he snapped and continued his speech. "Salamanders are sometimes found in gestating dragon lairs where they huddle in the cluster of eggs regularly heated by the female dragon. Now, what are the five main uses of the salamander?"

As Regulus trundled along in the carriage towards the Station he felt a flicker of fear go though him. He knew that once he arrived at wherever this Wizard was hiding that he would not be able to turn his back. However he also knew what he wanted, or rather, what he needed. But the importance of the decision was not lost on him. Perhaps his decision today would eventually change the world for the better, he mused as he made his way towards the triumphant figure of Crouch looming out from the shadows beneath the carriage stop. He held onto the one thing he knew for sure as he clutched Crouch's arm in preparation for the apparition: He was going to make his family proud or die trying.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE:

Crouch's nails dug into Regulus' arm as he twisted on the spot. Regulus gasped as he was squeezed into a void of darkness. He tried to gulp in air but there was nothing to gulp, his body was being pressed in all directions at once, he thought he was going to suffocate but couldn't clutch at his chest as Crouch's hand was now vice-like upon his arm. Just as he began to feel dizzy and thought he must surely faint there was cold air on his face and the sound of trees complaining under a sudden gust of wind. The change was abrupt and startling and Regulus felt nauseous, coughing and breathing heavily, blinking away the tears that had suddenly clouded his eyes.

Crouch didn't wait for Regulus to regain his composure but flung his arm aside in disgust and marched purposely toward the cast iron gates before them. Regulus hurried after him, glancing around in trepidation at the long graveled drive before them. The drive led to large manor house, which seemed to gape out of the darkness, sprawling endlessly on like some great fortress.

The full moon hung low in the sky and illuminated the perfect lawn below, sparkling off the fountain that played serenely in the foreground. The trees around the lawn were continuously whipped around by torrents of wind and the noise made by the clanking gates behind them seemed to pierce through Regulus' very soul. Sweat dewed on the nape of his neck and he wiped it away hastily, jogging a little to catch up with Crouch who was striding towards a large ornately decorated front door. Regulus glanced from side to side; an albino peacock pecked its way lazily along the grass, in striking contrast with the pitch lawn.

Crouch knocked firmly on the door and stood back expectantly. Regulus began to shake involuntarily. He had an awful premonition, but wasn't about to voice it aloud, or even dwell upon it. He wanted to do this. Hell! He _needed_ to do this.

Lucius Malfoy -his thick blond hair cascading haphazardly across his face, a small outbreak of spots upon his weak chin- opened the door, glanced over his shoulder and ushered them in silently. The thick carpets muffled their footsteps as Regulus made his way down the corridor, trying to keep pace with Malfoy who was whispering hurriedly into Crouch's ear.

"He's in the drawing room," hissed Malfoy as they passed yet another family portrait. "I wasn't sure...he brought...the snake." Crouch said nothing but quickened his pace, his face betraying the odd snippet of emotion before elapsing once more into a blank mask. Regulus could hear his breathing coming faster as they made their way further and further along the dark corridor. Lucius seemed nervous and when they finally reached the end of the corridor, hesitated before slowly turning the knob of a large oak door. Crouch let out an unsteady breath and strode into the room; Lucius gestured for Regulus to follow but stayed outside, examining his fingernails carefully as if to stall. Regulus clenched his quivering hands and stepped over the threshold.

Crouch was on his knees, shudders of fervor wracking his body, eyes wide and gleaming, lips white with the suppression of some passionate declaration. Bellatrix stood, watching Crouch disdainfully, a glass of dark wine perched delicately between her fingers, her cheekbones casting long shadows across her face from the light of a roaring fire.

"My Lord," she called, glancing toward a tall cloaked wizard who stood with his back to them and seemed to be contemplating his wand, "my dear cousin has arrived," and then tauntingly to Regulus; "kneel before you new master, puppy." Regulus knelt, cowed not by Bella, but by the enormous influence this man seemed to hold around himself. He stared wide-eyed as the wizard turned, slowly, to face them.

His face was serpentine. A receding hairline pulled taut from a non-existent brow, the eyes glinting -slightly red- above chiseled, slightly gaunt cheekbones, lips thin and pulled into a smile that did not reach his amber eyes. He might once have been handsome, but to Regulus the man's face seemed to reflect the power within; subtle, potent, transcendent and something else he could not quite define.

"So, _This_ is the little Black," the man -if that is what he could be called- hissed, his high, cold voice barely above a whisper. "So young..." the last word seemed to trail off in a hiss. He motioned at Bellatrix and immediately she launched into passionate speech, arms gesticulating wildly as she spoke.

"Are you ready, Regulus Arcturus Black, to become one of the elite? The ones wizarding history will remember as the champions of the wizarding race? Are you ready to assist me in the Deatheater's quest to eradicate the filth of muggle blood, to purge it from the magical bloodlines?"

Regulus swallowed, his heart was beating a deadly quick drum roll against his ribs and his mouth was dry. This was what he had been waiting for. He had to save his family from taint, from the filth of muggle blood, lest they join the many families listed in Natures Nobility. It was his duty as Black heir. His brother was almost a blood traitor; he was the only one who would save their line. It was his sole duty to his parents, a necessity, not an option. Not an option.

"Yes," he rasped, hands still shaking, he clenched his teeth determinedly and looked The Dark Lord in the face. His slit-like eyes bored into Regulus, they got bigger and bigger and seemed to swallow him whole. Images flashed before him; The proud moment when he'd been picked for Slytherin, sitting quietly on the living room floor in rapture while his father explained the family tree whilst Sirius yawned and fidgeted, helping his mother hang up green and silver hangings on his bedroom wall, his outrage at the news that his cousin was engaged to a muggleborn, his studious avoidance of the mudbloods in his classes, the day when -for the first time ever- he had had a blazing row with his brother about wizarding rights. The scenes snapped passed, he wasn't sure where he was or when until he was released, blinking into the present.

"I see you are loyal, and dedicated. Lord Voldemort values both qualities. Come forward, boy"

Regulus stumbled to his feet and shakily walked towards the man, who he was now completely sure, would change his life.

"Kneel," The Dark Lord ordered, and Regulus obediently knelt, staring respectfully at soft carpet. "Hold out your left arm," Regulus did so, stiffening the muscles to stop it from shaking so quite so badly. With a flick of his wand, Regulus' forearm was exposed; he bit his lip hard and squeezed his eyes tight shut. A brush of a wand that rose Goosebumps on his quivering arm and then: "Morsmordre."

The pain was stunning. Regulus tried to snatch his arm back reflexively but it seemed somehow trussed to The Dark Lord's wand. His body was wracked with blasts of blinding paroxysms of awareness, each contraction somehow binding him closer to the man that stood before him. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Regulus slumped to the floor, shaking harder than he had ever done in his life, small fibers of the carpet gently tickling his nose as he shuddered and gasped. His arm felt strangely numb and heavy. He lay there for what seemed like hours while dark shapes came and went above him and strangely disturbing scenes played out in his head, over and over. At one point he thought he might be being carried, but shortly after this assumption he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

He woke at dawn, or it appeared to be early as fresh light now streamed through the windows curtains, gently permeating the room with a soft glow. He seemed to be in a bed, tightly wrapped in a heavy duvet. He was drenched in a cold sweat, and gratefully moved his arms out of the stuffy confines of the blanket. Half way out of the covers he stopped and turned his left forearm toward himself, sharply. He gasped. Where there had yesterday been smooth pale skin there was now a dark tattoo, which seemed to leap up from his creamy complexion. It was a skull; the dark sockets fixated upon him, a snake protruding from an open jaw, and as Regulus stared it seemed writhe and slide between the skulls open maw. Regulus shivered and pulled down his sleeve, glancing round the room curiously. He was still in his travelling cloak, but someone had removed his shoes and placed them by the side of the bed. He slipped them on cautiously and made his way to the window, pulling back the green curtains to reveal the scene below.

The lawns spread impressively before him could only belong to one house, and as he peered around the perfectly tended grounds he silently deduced that he was still in Malfoy manor. Padding down the still candle-lit corridors brought a menacing sense of unease as they seemed by all accounts to be deserted. He reached the landing and carefully tiptoed down the winding staircase, following the only sound he could hear; that of muffled voices a long way off.

He reached what he thought to be the source and waited patiently outside the door while the voices continued to talk.

"He's far too young," Narcissa was saying in her trill soprano, "this is not a choice for a boy who hasn't even finished school! What if his secret is discovered? That close to Dumbledore we would all be in danger!'

"Hush Cissy" came the strangely sibilant voice of Bellatrix Black, "The Dark Lord read his mind, he is compatible, and-"there was a scuffle of movement from behind the door and Bellatrix heaved it open so hard the hinges rattled. "Ha! Caught you, you little sneak!" She shrieked, brandishing her wand at him threateningly. "The sooner you're out of the house the better! Take him home Cissy."

Narcissa pursed her lips but strode from the room, motioning for him to follow. They walked silently through the house, the only noises the sound of bird calls outside and the creaking of displaced doors. Regulus was still shaken from the events of the previous evening, but he managed to plaster what he thought to be a brave face upon his countenance as they strode through the house lest they meet anyone in the dark corridors. They reached the living room and Narcissa removed a small ceramic container from above the fireplace, handed it to Regulus then made to leave the room, her skirts swishing around the door frame as he turned to motion a silent goodbye. Regulus took a deep breath and threw the Floo Powder into the embers of the fire, which immediately leaped into emerald life.

"Number twelve Grimmald Place," he called clearly as he stepped into the tickling flames.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX:

Astrid was peering down at him curiously, an odd look on her face he had never seen before. Abruptly, he was aware of her warm weight resting gently on his chest, the rise and fall of her breath synonymous with his. Sunlight glittered above them as they lay on a thickly mossed surface, the sound of a stream trickling gently around them somewhere close by. For a few minutes he was content merely to study the features of the magnificent creature above him, then, precipitously, her lips parted, becoming larger and larger as they moved closer to his. He could feel her breath on his cheek, his nose, his mouth…. Just when he thought his chest would burst with terrifying anticipation and their lips would meet, he awoke, one again drenched in sweat, this time far too hot for his dark coverlet, which he promptly divested himself of, lurching into a sitting position and staring, horrified at his clenched fists. Moonlight peered through a slit in his curtains, casting a sliver of light over the carpet before him. He stood unsteadily and staggered over to the window, pushing aside the parted curtains further so he could ease open the pane and let the dark London air breeze soothingly over his face. Sweeping a damp palm across his forehead he brushed back the hairs clinging there and sighed loudly out into the night. The sound of his breath mingled with the hum of city and from somewhere far off came the distant shriek of a fox.

What was going on? He felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Why had every night of the holidays so far brought with it visions of Astrid? At least in this one she had survived. He shuddered as he recalled the nightmare of yesterday. Astrid had been calling to him between the trees of the forbidden forest. Whenever he caught glimpses of her she would flit silently out of view, the edge of a robe or a tendril of hair, whipped out of sight as the gloom intensified. Until…. They came to a river, too wide to cross, churned by sweeping undercurrents beneath the roiled surface. The water had seemed to roar at their arrival and as Regulus had looked wildly around for a sign of Astrid, an odd calm descended eerily upon the scene. Then, without warning, with a flash of green light that sparkled instantaneously upon the water, Astrid was before him, a smile dying upon her lips as she was thrown back by the emerald blaze and into the churning arms of the river. Waters closed purposefully above her head and she was gone. Regulus had awoken with a yell. No. No. No. He knocked his head against the glass, squeezing his eyes tight to remove the horribly photographic memory from his mind.

"Master Regulus?" It was Creature, peering questioningly around the door, his face a mask of worry. "I heard a noise…. Is Master still having bad dreams?"

Regulus composed himself and smiled wanly at the elf. "Not to worry, Creature, it's gone now. Go back to bed."

Creature blinked and produced a steaming mug. "I have brought Master tea to help him sleep again. You return to school tomorrow and will need to rise early."

Regulus smiled in earnest and took the cup gratefully. Watching the steam coil as Creature slipped from the room. With two sips his head began to feel heavy and the room blurred, he lurched across the room once more and slipped into unconsciousness. He did not dream.

Sirius was talking. Regulus hated it when he did that. "Dearest Mama, I'm not asking," he drawled sarcastically as they drew into the station car park. "I am simply _telling_ you what I am going to do next for the next school holidays."

Walpurga Black glowered into her eldest son's insolent face as Regulus sank lower into the leather seat of the car. "How dare you. Although I think for once that you have the correct plan. You have obviously completely abandoned your ancestral pride and so we in turn, shall abandon you. Regulus darling, get out, your brother is no longer your brother."

Regulus meekly obeyed, heaving his trunk from the boot of the car whilst his mother winced at the mundane act. "Making us act like filthy muggles. How dare they. How _dare_ they!" She discreetly tapped the handle of his luggage so it became feather-light in his fist and, putting an arm around his shoulder as if to protect him from the muggles all around, led him into the station, not sparing a backward glance for Sirius who was still hauling his trunk from the car.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN:

"And really by then everybody was hunkered down for a week-long match, I mean there were tents being put up in the stands and everything! But just when Bagman looked likely to fall of his broom with fatigue and the subs looked imminent, Fox caught the snitch! It was cra- Regulus, are you even listening to me?"

Regulus was sweating again. He was finding it very hard to concentrate on anything at all these days. The dreams kept returning, or maybe he just thought about them too much, but whatever the reason, their fervor seemed to fog his every moment, both waking and sleeping. He felt like he'd been caught in a mental loop; like a hamster caged on a wheel, too scared to stop running; too preoccupied with meaning to completely forget. With an effort Regulus brought himself away from the phantom Astrid, to the real one, an inward exertion that did nothing to ease his outward perspiration. He blushed and automatically glanced at her lips, inwardly kicking himself as they pursed in annoyance.

"Are you sure you're feeling quite yourself? Because I have this strange feeling that you've been present in nothing but body today."

"I've been ill," muttered Regulus, trying to calm his racing heart and absentmindedly rubbing his left forearm. The dreams had not been all that had disturbed him of late. The skull branded upon him weeks before daubed him as a marked man, a criminal. He'd often found himself guiltily peering into the dark spaces behind suits of armor and starting at insignificant movement of portraits as he'd moved around the school, his sub-conscious inclining to bouts of crippling paranoia in solitary hours. He could not admit to himself that he was frightened. Could not admit that Crouch's icy smiles across the table at him at mealtimes had him quaking with dread, because that would mean admitting misgivings towards the only thing he'd ever been certain of before. He knew that now he was in, he must be wholly devoted. Cousin Bella had been clear enough on that.

"You do seem a bit…flustered," conceded Astrid, yet again drawing him from his morbid reveries. She reached out and trailed a cool palm over Regulus' forehead, sighing in frustration as he jumped abruptly and quickly pulled himself away. "Regulus. What. Is. Wrong? Don't tell me it's the common cold. The flu doesn't make you as jumpy as a rabbit in a badger set," she grabbed his face, this time framing his ears with her fingers and curling them firmly around his neck, forcing him to look down at her.

Regulus stared into her hard, green eyes and shifted uncomfortably. It was dusk, the night was falling fast and hard around them as they stood at the edge of the lake, cliffs rising craggily up to the school at their right, the expanse of water that was the lake stretching into the gloom of the trees to their left. A thin beam of light illuminating them, cast from one of the blazing windows above. "It's nothing," Regulus tried, attempting to gently ease his head from her grasp but she wouldn't move, her fingers digging painfully into the base of his skull. "Ouch, Astrid! Please, just leave it." Astrid didn't loosen her grasp but her eyes seemed to be melting slowly, hard, flinty chips of emerald pooling into wells of mossy fire. Regulus blinked slowly down at her, defeated. He felt the onslaught of a headache smoking it's way round her fingers, searching for a way into his brain. She raised her eyebrows, obviously waiting for an adequate response. Half to free himself from her grasp and scrutinies, half because it had been all he had been thinking about doing for a week, Regulus leaned swiftly towards her, wrapped his own arms around her neck and planted a chaste kiss on her down-turned mouth. At once, she released him and taking advantage of his freedom, he lurched away, ruffling her hair and chuckling at her astounded expression. "It's nothing really. Come on, we'll be late for supper."

Astrid was very quiet as they made their way back up to the castle, the sound of a nightingale cooing hauntingly in the distance. Regulus could smell wood smoke and decaying leaves as he tramped up the loam, his steps autonomously guided towards the looming front doors. Peace settled sleepily around him for a blessed instant, Astrid at his side, perhaps breathing more heavily than usual. He felt as if he were residing within the calm between two storms, a stringy young yew bent to a mercifully tepid wind. "Regulus…Regulus, I…" Astrid paused conspicuously. Regulus stopped and regarded her with an unusual modicum of calm considering the sentiments he knew must follow; the illusion of harmony had not yet quite subsided. "Regulus, why…I mean what…. I mean…. For goodness sake you've just kissed me and you're acting like you do it every day!" Regulus smiled at her dolefully.

"In my head I do," he whispers, just over the breeze.

Astrid stares for a few moments, then regains a fragment of her composure to squeak, "what?"

Regulus merely smiles and extends a hand for her to clasp. "You…you fancy me?" Asks Astrid, her inflections rising slightly, words tripping somewhat discordantly off her tongue. Regulus just chuckles enigmatically.

"Something like that," he accedes.

And then time speeds up so that they're both laughing and crying and reaching for one another simultaneously and then they're hugging and Regulus is trailing damp kisses over Astrid's face and hair and neck; any part of her he can press to him before their blissful embraces are consumed by the allegorical impending tempest that will forevermore shroud their existence in ambiguity.


End file.
